CHAPTER FOUR
My mother is an odd sort of artist. If books and television are to be believed, you’d think she’d be scatterbrained and prone to whims. She’s not.
Every night, she has a homecooked dinner on the table. (Well, some nights she delegates the chore to me, but either way, it’s there, and it’s homecooked.) She makes sure we eat perfectly balanced meals with seasonal produce, and there’s usually something homemade for dessert, even if it’s just a jar full of cookies in the kitchen.
She’s big on family time, good grades, brushing your teeth before bed, and grilling her daughter about the “cute” boy that’s staying in Site Twenty-nine.
“I’m just saying I saw you two talking,” she says with a laugh, raising her hands in surrender. Her hair is red. Not brown with natural red highlights like mine—red. Every day she takes the time to straighten it, smooth it to perfection, and make it shine…and then she yanks it into a ponytail before lunch because it drives her crazy. She’s tall and willowy—like an overgrown pixie. I take after her, but at five-nine, she’s got two inches on me.
Uncle Mark smiles at his cards, but it’s a seasick sort of look, one that makes me think he wishes we would change the subject. My dad passed away when I was six, so Uncle Mark stepped in to help with the RV park so Mom wouldn’t have to sell. I have no doubt that he’s just as protective of me as my own dad would have been.
He lives in one of the cabins, but he eats with us every night. He dated some when I was younger, and my biggest fear was that he’d get married and leave us. But for some reason, he never did.
“We were just talking.” I discard a ten of hearts and tap the rest of my cards on the table, feeling jittery.
I don’t want to talk about Landon.
Mark leans forward to pick up the pile, and I shake my head. “You don’t want to do that. Mom’s about to go out.”
Mark looks over. Noticing the solitary card sitting face-down on the table in front of Mom, he pulls back his hand.
“His mom is nice,” my mother continues, refusing to drop the subject. “I met her yesterday when I was checking one of the sites. I’m going to let her borrow my sewing machine for the summer.”
I fold my hands and set my chin on the table as I wait for her to discard so I can take my turn. “How did that come up?”
Mom shrugs, studying her card, probably wishing it would turn into something that would play. “She asked me about my art, and one thing led to another.”
The doorbell rings before we get to my turn. It’s almost nine, but we’re supposed to have a late arrival tonight. I told the man on the phone to drive right to his site, but maybe he can’t find it.
Mark pushes back his seat, but I hop up first. “I’ll take care of it.”
Instead of a lost camper, I find Paige on the doorstep. “Can you take tomorrow off?”
“I don’t think so…”
“Hi, Paige,” Uncle Mark says from behind me, setting his hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, Mr. Mark.” She grins. I can tell from her tone she’s about to go over my head. “I helped Dad clean our garage, and he said Lacey and I can go out on his boat tomorrow. If it’s all right with you.”
“I have ten check-ins scheduled,” I start to protest. “And I have to water the barrels…”
Mom wanders up, smiling when she sees Paige. “I’ll water your flowers, Lacey. It’s summer—go have fun.”
“And I’ll take the cart around tomorrow evening to complete the check-ins,” Mark adds.
“Then it’s a date!” Paige chirps, worrying me. She’s plotting something. Before I can drag it out of her, she runs down the porch steps. “See you tomorrow morning.”
“Wait, Paige—”
“I’ll be here at nine!”
And then she slips around the massive hedge of chokecherry bushes and disappears.
I shake my head as I close the door.
“I was going to ask if she wanted to stay for dessert,” Mom says, “but she took off too fast.”
“I’ll take dessert,” Mark unnecessarily says—he’s always game for sweets. “What did you make?”
She gives him an indulgent smile and swats his arm. “We’re just getting some good strawberries in, so I made shortcake.”
Mom’s shortcake is the angel food cake variety—homemade, not store-bought. It’s amazing. And worth sticking around for, even when she returns to the table and says, “Now, back to Landon.”
“I don’t think we were talking about Landon anymore,” I protest.
“I think you should offer to show him around.”
“We’re in Gray Jay,” I say, pausing to take a bite of strawberries, whipped cream, and cake. “He’s been here more than five minutes—he’s already seen it all.”
She raises an eyebrow and presses her lips together, trying to look stern. She’s not very good at it. “I just want you to be friendly to him.”
“I have been friendly.”
“And maybe the two of you could hang out a bit.”
I point my fork at her. “Why is it I get the disturbing impression you’re trying to set me up?”
She gives me an innocent shrug that’s anything but. “He just seems nice, that’s all. And you can’t deny that he’s easy on the eyes.”
“Ew! Mother,” I groan. It’s one thing for me to think it…it’s another for her to say it.
Luckily, Uncle Mark seems to agree with me, and he promptly guides the subject to the fact that my mother cheats at cards.
She argues with him, forgetting all about Landon.
But I don’t.
***
As promised, Paige arrives at promptly nine in the morning. She takes one look at me and shakes her head. “No, no, no.”
“What?” I look down at my ripped jeans and the T-shirt that was cute a few years ago but is now faded and butter-soft. “Did your dad implement a boating dress code since last year?”
She rolls her eyes, which are lined with just the right amount of eyeliner to make them look exotic. “We’re not going with Dad.”
I set my hands on my hips, refusing to budge as she attempts to push me back into the house. “He’s letting us take out the boat? By ourselves?”
“Sort of.” She finally gives me a hard shove, making me lose my balance. “Come on. You can’t wear that.”
Giving in, I let her drag me to my bedroom. I sit on the bed as she rummages through my closet. I love fashion, I always have, but there’s not a lot to dress up for around here. At some point, I guess I gave up.
“This,” she says, pulling out a cute, loose gray tank top and a pair of shorts.
“It’s not exactly warm yet,” I point out.
“So?”
“Paige.”
“Humor me,” she begs, her eyes bright and hopeful. She only wears the innocent, woodland animal expression on rare occasions.
Suddenly, I have a horrible epiphany.
“You invited Landon, didn’t you?” The words come out as a whispered hiss.
Paige’s eyebrows jump, and a teasing smile plays at her lips. “I thought you weren’t interested in him.”
I look down at my bedspread and smooth a wrinkle in the old-fashioned, floral comforter. “I’m not.”
It’s quiet for three whole seconds, and then she assures me, “I didn’t invite Landon.”
Oh. Well. That’s good.
Twisting my mouth to the side, I study her. It’s obvious she’s up to something, even if she hasn’t involved the boy from Site Twenty-nine. “Then who did you invite?”
She looks down, giving the shirt in her hands a thoughtful look—but she’s really just avoiding eye contact. “Jerrett.”
“Jerrett?” I say, aghast.
“Gia’s not coming,” Paige quickly adds.
Slowly, I nod, letting my hackles down. That’s the second time the girl has invaded my thoughts in just a few days. Now, don’t get me wrong—It’s not that I don’t like Gia…
Okay. It’s that I don’t like Gia.
And I know that’s wrong—I really do. But she made out with Thomas Wallert last year during a town picnic even though she knew he was dating me. You know what her excuse was? She thought I was home with a headache.
Because that makes it all better.
After that, Thomas and I broke things off. Which ended up working out better for me than Gia. You see, not even two weeks later, Thomas’s girlfriend from home—the one he forgot to mention he had—showed up and found them together. Better Gia than me, thank you very much.
“Why did you invite Jarrett?” I ask, more curious than anything else. Unlike his sister, Jarrett is nice. He’s also been in love with Paige since we were five. Though he was always on the short, scrawny side, he’s filled out in the last few years and shot up about six inches. He’s cute, but I’m not sure he’s flashy enough to catch Paige’s attention.
“Their cousin is visiting from Nebraska,” she answers, still avoiding my eyes. “I thought it would be fun to welcome him to Gray Jay.”
And it clicks. Jarrett didn’t attract Paige’s attention—his cousin did. And why not? There’s nothing Paige likes more than a summer boy.
“So, I’m there to keep Jarrett company while you flirt with his cousin? Why drag us along at all? You could have just asked him out.”
She laughs and takes my shoulders, giving me a lazy shake as she finally looks at me. “It’s okay to get out of here every once in a while.”
“You sound like my mom.” I roll my eyes and snatch the shorts and shirt from her hands. “All right. Let’s try this ‘fun’ you speak of.”